


For Every Loveliness

by monetstcroix



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Canon Divergence, F/F, Gen, M/M, Post-Harry Potter and the Deathly Hallows, Remus Lupin Lives, Sirius Black Lives, Werewolf Lavender Brown
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2021-02-21
Updated: 2021-02-21
Packaged: 2021-03-18 12:33:51
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 3,293
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/29609475
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/monetstcroix/pseuds/monetstcroix
Summary: In which Parvati finds out that romantic advice can come from the strangest places, even the escaped ex-convict Sirius Black.
Relationships: Lavender Brown/Parvati Patil, Sirius Black/Remus Lupin
Comments: 8
Kudos: 60





	For Every Loveliness

**Author's Note:**

> Title from the lyrics of "I Wished on the Moon" by Billie Holiday.

Alone in a ramshackle cottage on the moors with two werewolves and an escaped convict.

She supposes that sounds quite terrifying on its face, perhaps the kind of scary story that she would have shivered at when she was little. Maybe even only a few years ago when what was _good_ and what was _bad_ had seemed so clearly defined. But back then, she had not known that one of the werewolves would be one of the kindest professors that she’s ever had and that the other one would be her best friend of nearly eight years, the girl she knows nearly as well as herself. She had not properly understood that lycanthropy is simply just another illness, not evidence of evil or darkness. And now she knew that things were not so simple; that the world they lived in was built on a rotting bedrock of lies about who was _good_ and _deserving_ and who was not. Though the escaped convict— _former_ convict, she reminds herself, he was caught up in the rot too—is still a bit intimidating.

He is sitting next to her on the front step now, the smoke of his cigarette in her nostrils, a grey cloud in the air as he exhales. Not sure what else to do after accompanying Lavender here, Parvati had wandered out of Professor Lupin’s cottage and sat down on the front step. Sirius Black had joined her shortly after, holding out a carton of muggle cigarettes which she had refused with a shake of her head. Then, instead of continuing on past her, as she was secretly hoping, or turning around and going right back into the house, he had sat down right next to her.

She’d thought about standing up and going for a walk herself, picking her way through the overgrown thickets covering the moorland, but she did not want to leave Lavender alone here. No, when Lavender had asked her that morning over their usual breakfast of buttered toast and milky tea if she would take the portkey with her to Professor Lupin’s cottage up in Scotland, not meeting Parvati’s eyes as she chewed on her own lip, she had accepted at once. Parvati was not one to go back on her promises, especially to her best friend.

So, here she is, sitting next to Sirius Black, the starring figure in her thirteen-year-old nightmares. She had dreamed of many terrifying encounters with the man where he was at her heels as she tried to run from him through the twisting halls of Hogwarts or hiding behind her bed curtain ready with a bloody dagger. In light of all those old fears, it almost seems laughable that her encounter with this man ended up being so bloody _ordinary,_ the two of them sitting on Professor Lupin's doorstep in awkward silence. Almost. 

Though it is a cloudy grey day, the sun is shining in the distance, thin shafts of light just barely visible over the hills. As Parvati stares out at the heather covering the land stretching out in front of them, only a shade brighter than lavender, Black finally speaks.

“Lucky your friend has the potion,” he says, somewhere between a question and a statement. If not for the possessive pronoun, she would assume that he was simply talking to the air.

“Er, I think it’s still quite painful though,” she ventures after a few seconds of silence, the quiet stretching awkwardly between them and made all the more obvious by the grouse calls far off. Parvati is unsure about how to deal with this man, to say the very least. 

After all, how do you make something approaching casual conversation with _Sirius Black_ of all people? The first man to ever escape Azkaban, the man who had done it before Voldemort rendered that accomplishment another mundane horror. Black, the scourge of Gryffindor Tower so many years ago, and now the tall thin man sitting next to her with an ashy cigarette tucked between two of his fingers. Friend to someone with lycanthropy, just like her. Even though she knows he is innocent, that he was wrongly framed and suffered years in darkness for it, it seems nearly impossible to reconcile it all into this man sitting next to her.

“Back then,” he mutters, still staring out into the distance. “It was the most awful sound on this earth. His body tearing itself apart and no matter what he did, he couldn’t stop it.”

“Oh,” she says, tucking her arms in closer around herself, a sudden chill slicing through her body. Lavender is only one missed potion dose away from that. “Er. You used to, um, stay with him during the…”

He seems to get what she is trying to get at, what she is too nervous, no, _scared_ to put into concrete words, her Gryffindor courage deserting her in the face of the full moon.

“Right. That was the point of the Animagus thing. Saved my life too, in the end.”

“Right,” she echoes weakly, thinking of the article that had shown up in the _Daily Prophet_ the week after Harry Potter and his friends escaped Hogwarts to face Voldemort in the Ministry of Magic. Sirius Black, declared innocent and recovering in St. Mungo’s from a nasty injury Bellatrix Lestrange had given him. The _Prophet_ article had neatly outlined the truth of the Potters’ murder and Black’s escape, explaining how the friendship of four boys had come to this bloody resolution nearly twenty years later. Yet another footnote to Voldemort’s return, but one that had revealed third year fears as lies. “Er, you can become a dog?”

His Animagus form had been described as a massive, bear-like black dog, bringing the Grim to mind. She tries not to think of that omen, only the bloom of purple stretching out in front of her, the slight warmth of the thin sunlight, and the cool wind ruffling her hair, inky strands flying into her vision.

“Yeah,” he says, stubbing the cigarette out on the front step. “I still stay with him during the full moons. I’m not leaving him ever again.”

“Oh,” she says again. “Even though he has the potion?”

“Of course,” he says, looking up at her for the very first time.

His grey eyes are dark as a stormy sky, his brow furrowed. She is filled with anxiety over offending this strange man and her mouth opens before she can properly think her words through.

“No, I didn’t mean…” she starts frantically. “I mean, I wish I could stay with Lavender too! But she said she doesn’t ever want me to see her like that even, um, even if she’s safe.”

“Hm,” he says, withdrawing another cigarette from the pocket of his leather jacket and lighting it with a small conjured orange flame in the palm of his hand. “It looks just as bad as it sounds.”

“The transformation? Um, yeah, probably, but I wouldn’t care if it was her, if I could just be _there_ for her…” she trails off. The clumsy words are inadequate for the depth of her feelings, the overwhelming need to be _there_ for Lavender, to make it easier for her in any way that she can, to make sure that Lavender knows she is not alone, that she will never be alone, to make sure she knows that she is _loved._ Parvati sighs, tucking her head in between her knees.

“You sound like me in sixth year,” Black comments.

“I thought you managed the transformation in fifth year,” Parvati mumbles, mortified over letting Black catch sight of her falling apart like that.

Professor Lupin had told them the whole story in the letter that he had sent Lavender last week, inviting her to come to his cottage in Scotland which was not so far from Hogwarts. A boy alone, guarded by the willow as the full moon overhead tore the wolf out. Three friends who went as far as transforming themselves to give him companionship. The stag, the dog, and the rat.

Parvati has never considered becoming an Animagus, the whole process seeming like too much bother when you cannot even predict which animal you will be. And she hadn’t ever had any reason to change herself so fundamentally. No, she liked herself just the way she was even though she had to keep some parts of herself tucked deep down where no one else could see it, like what she really wanted. Who she wanted. 

Padma, in her usual inquisitive way, had expressed interest in the technical aspects of the transformation, how the transfiguration magic could work without a wand, but Parvati had not looked into it any further beyond the required reading for McGonagall’s class. But now… she would be happy to go through that whole tedious process and become anything, even a slippery snake or an enormous slobbery dog like Black, as long as it meant that she could be with Lavender, could somehow make things easier for her. A mad thought, Black teaching her how to become an Animagus, being a professor of sorts, comes into her head and she nearly laughs out loud. 

“No, it wasn’t that…” Black takes another drag of his cigarette before continuing. “I was a bloody fucking idiot and told Snape where he was transforming because he just wouldn’t… Remus didn’t speak to me for weeks. I fancied him like mad, near drove me over the edge.”

This is all news to Parvati. Perhaps Professor Lupin had not told them the whole story after all. But Snape is dead and Lavender does not have to transform in the Shrieking Shack. She decides to respond to the last part, the words almost comforting in how ordinary they are.

“Er, you fancied him?”

Black shakes his head. “Still do.”

“Oh, that’s nice!” Parvati exclaims, trying to wrap her head around this man that is all knife-sharp angles and black leather fancying their old professor with gentle lined brown eyes who wears sweaters with elbow patches on them and carries around chocolate to give to students. “Does he know?”

He laughs, a sharp low noise nearly like a bark, like a flash of lightning through the storm. “We’ve been sleeping in the same bed and giving joint Christmas presents for the past four years. He better bloody well know by now, otherwise he’s the daftest bloke this side of Britain.”

Parvati lets out a giggle of surprise. She is filled with happiness for Professor Lupin and Sirius Black, that they have found something good together in spite of what the both of them have gone through. It is not the kind of relationship they write about in romance novels or compose ballads for, with no handsome knight-mages in shining armor or sorceresses with beauty enough to launch a thousand ships, but that somehow makes it even more romantic. Two men finding love together even in the shadow of war, two wars. Now the tiny cottage with room only for one bedroom despite the existence of expanding charms, Sirius's presence here with her on the doorstep, makes more sense. 

“That’s really sweet.” 

“It’s brilliant,” he says. “What about you and this Lavender girl?”

“What?” Parvati gapes at him. Her heart is suddenly pounding in her chest. Black has somehow gotten at what she has shared with no one else, even her own twin. She’s barely shared it with herself, only keeping it buried deep as a small, secret hope when she looks at her tea leaves or does her astrological chart. “We’re… we’re friends. Just friends,” Parvati finally manages.

“That all you want it to be?”

“It well, it wouldn’t matter either way. I don’t think she fancies girls,” Parvati blurts out before she can stop herself. Merlin, she is talking to Sirius Black, escaped convict, part-time dog, and wrongly accused mass-murderer about _his_ bloody love life. It is all so absurd that it seems okay to say it out loud for the very first time, uncover that little glimmer of hope and finally let the sun shine on it.

“You won’t know ‘til you give it a proper Gryffindor go. That’s what I said about Moony and blokes before he cornered me in the library in seventh year and snogged me silly,” he says, a slow smile spreading on his face, almost incongruous against the gauntness of his cheeks and the lines around his eyes. She cannot help laughing out loud again. This is so bloody _ridiculous_ that it is exhilarating. Talking to the boyfriend, husband, _something_ of her old Professor about fancying her best friend.

“Moony, really?”

“I was Padfoot and James was Prongs, for the antlers,” Sirius says. He does not mention the fourth member of their group. Parvati is thankful for that. She does not want to think of the traitor that slept only a dormitory away in Ron Weasley’s bed.

It is odd thinking of James Potter now that she is sitting here with his best friend. She can still remember the old photograph of James Potter the _Prophet_ had printed with Professor Lupin and Sirius and Pettigrew, taken just after they’d finished at Hogwarts nearly twenty years ago. They’d all been smiling and waving up at her as she finally learned the truth about them, ignorant to the words of treachery and death framing their photograph. 

Sirius is nearly twice her age, spending more than half her lifetime locked up in Azkaban, but he is still about ten years younger than her parents. When she was younger, even just a few years ago, James and Lily Potter had only seemed symbols of goodness, sacrifice, and love, so ageless and abstract that they were ancient. But when they died, they were only three years older than she is now. For the first time, she wonders how Harry feels about that, how it will feel for him to be older than they ever were.

“I guess teenage boys aren’t known for their creativity,” she finally says, hugging her arms close to herself.

“Hey, we were plenty creative, just not in the nicknaming area,” Sirius grins. Just then, footsteps sound behind them. “Give it a go,” Sirius mutters to her out of the side of his mouth before standing up. 

“And of course, you’re welcome to owl me any time, Lavender,” Professor Lupin is telling Lavender as they approach the door. 

“Thank you, Prof—Remus,” Lavender makes a quick correction, looking a little flustered. It’s another part of this constant stumbling into adulthood that they are both still stuck on. Parvati wonders if their steps will ever be steady, if they will ever feel like real, proper adults, whatever the hell that means. Sometimes she thinks that last year at Hogwarts lasted centuries and sometimes she feels like she should be stepping onto the Hogwarts Express to start her first year, like the past seven years were just a dream. It’s an odd spot to be stuck in, but Parvati doesn’t mind so much as long as Lavender is by her side. 

Parvati stands up to greet Lavender with a warm hug, squeezing her tight for a moment that is somehow never long enough, and then steps away, the lilac scent of Lavender’s perfume still lingering. The wind coming in through the open front door ruffles Lavender’s golden curls and she smiles at Parvati. Seeing Lavender’s smile always makes her feel like she has stepped into a sunbeam, that all the clouds have been swept from the bright blue sky and the sun itself is shining golden on her. And if there is one thing the sun is brighter than, it is the moon.

“Right, owl any time you like,” Sirius says, jolting her out of her reverie. Sometime in the past several seconds he has come to stand by Professor Lupin, their shoulders touching. He grins knowingly at her, raising his eyebrows. “Especially if you’ve got good news.”

Parvati’s face heats. She is thankful that she does not blush easily.

“It was good seeing you two,” Professor Lupin says, his kind brown eyes crinkling up in a smile. As he turns to Sirius, their smiles both broaden like they’ve stepped under the same cloudless sky that Parvati has. As they look at each other, Parvati thinks that they nearly seem the same boys they were in that old picture of them and James and Pettigrew in the _Prophet,_ the years and grey hair and lines melting away with their love for each other. She thinks of what they have found together in spite of years of darkness and war and feels hope bloom, warm and thankful, in her heart. Even though it seems there is still a long dark way to go for all of them past the shadow of the war, especially towards making things better for werewolves, she hopes that they are making a good start on that front.

“You too, Professor. Bye, Sirius,” Parvati responds. She and Lavender come out on the front step, closing the wooden front door behind them.

She is already preparing to apparate back to the little cottage in Devon that she and Lavender share, fixing the image of the white-painted cottage with its little rose garden in her mind, but Lavender stops her with a hand on her arm. 

“Were you alright with Black? I’m sorry I had to leave you alone, only Professor Lupin wanted to talk to me privately…”

“Oh, no, it was fine,” Parvati smiles. “He’s not so bad. Er, I think I might actually take some of his advice.”

“Some of his advice?” Lavender repeats, raising her brows in that expression Parvati loves so much, the one she summons whenever there’s a professor droning on or one of their classmates is being a prat.

“Yeah,” Parvati says, reaching a hand forward which Lavender immediately takes. Her hand is warm and Parvati always wants to trace the lines of Lavender’s palm with her thumb, hoping to find herself there, whether that’s in Lavender’s future or the sudden quickening of her pulse under her fingers to match Parvati’s own. Parvati always stops herself, just barely managing to draw away before she can tug Lavender closer. 

Even though they have held hands plenty of times, it always has Parvati’s heart pounding against her chest like it is her first time realizing just how much she fancies Lavender, like when they’d crawled together under her bed covers after Professor Dumbledore had died, not knowing what else to do. They had been both stunned speechless by the war brewing around them, shaky breaths under the heavy red darkness of the comforter, and then Lavender had reached out for her.

As Lavender looks back at Parvati, lips parted as if she wants to say something and copper-brown eyes watching her carefully, it occurs to Parvati, for the very first time, that she might not be the only one feeling this way.

“Um,” Parvati says, her scarlet and gold courage deserting her yet again.

“Professor Lupin gave me some advice too,” Lavender continues, thankfully not taking notice of Parvati’s sudden speechlessness. "Not just about being a werewolf, about other things too."

“He did?” Parvati manages.

“He told me that I shouldn’t be scared to act on what I wanted. That he had spent too long doing that himself,” Lavender says. She is so close that Parvati can feel Lavender’s soft warm breath on her own lips, see all the freckles dusting her brown skin. Lavender leans forward, bringing their mouths together, a gentle slow slide of lips. The kiss warms Parvati from inside out, making her feel so light that she thinks she could blow right away with the wind and into the sunshine, Lavender in her arms. 


End file.
